


Horrible

by orphan_account



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cook/Bering fic from when they're first assigned to a fighter/navigator team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horrible

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Royal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royal/gifts).



> Eeeee little drabble for RP, sorry it's so short, darling! I hope you like it! <3
> 
> Cook = Tycho, Bering = Kepler (both from Seberu’s awesome “Regrets” http://archiveofourown.org/works/668206)

He wasn't named yet…not really. Not in the way it mattered. He smoothed a hand over his shirt, straightened his spine when his Commander walked in. His eyes flicked to his company, the people around the older man. He swallowed past the thumping of his heart in his throat, watched as a dark-haired man broke away from the group and strode toward him, eyeing him openly. He hardened his gaze against the man's stare, pursing his lips and turning toward the Commander again. The man came to stand next to him, letting his eyes linger once more before turning to their Commander as well.

The Commander sat, adjusting his glasses on his nose and waving away a dark-haired assistant hovering at his shoulder. "Who do we have…" he muttered, glancing down at the tablet on his desk, then up at the two men in front of him. "Ah, yes." He cleared his throat, then said, "You're both assigned to a fighter and navigator team. Your task names are Kepler and Tycho. Here's your room assignment." He held out a small datapad, which Tycho— _Tycho—_ stepped forward to accept. Then the Commander said, "You're dismissed," and just like that Tycho was leaving again, being ushered out with Kepler by his side.

They were quiet walking back, Kepler throwing him sneaking little looks and smirks that Tycho pretended he didn't notice, hardening his expression against the scrutiny. Kepler kept walking when Tycho stopped at their room door; too distracted checking out the ass of a passing navigator to pay attention to where he was going.

Tycho didn't call him back, but Kepler figured it out eventually. He returned with a frown, looking embarrassed, but Tycho didn't say anything, pretended he hadn't seen that either as the door hissed open. Tycho paused, allowed Kepler to step past him and let out a slow whistle, looking around.

"Horrible," Kepler noted, the first thing he'd said since they left the office; the first thing he'd said to Tycho ever. Tycho hoped that first word wouldn't set the stage for the rest of their assignment together.

He didn't respond, glanced away and entered the room, door closing behind him with a soft puff of air, almost delicate. He set the datapad down on a nearby dresser, then turned toward the bathroom, turning on the light to survey all the gray, scratched surfaces; small, dark,  _horrible_.

Tycho turned the light off and closed the door, only realizing after he'd done so that he had nowhere else to be except in the main room with Kepler.

"This your first assignment?" Kepler asked.

Tycho didn't look at him, turned toward the nearest dresser and opened the top drawer, surveying the clothes inside: black, all of them. He closed the drawer. "No," he said.

Quiet for a moment as Tycho opened the next drawer down, the clothes inside this one mostly white. He ran a hand across the smooth fabric of one plain jacket. Kepler said, "Oh. It's mine."

 _Great_ , Tycho didn't say. He heard the bed squeak, and then footsteps just after. Tycho turned just as Kepler reached him, stood his ground when Kepler stopped, surging forward on the balls of his feet and then dropping back down again. He gave Tycho a little smirk, eyes sharp, and he was already too goddamn cocky for Tycho's taste; too cocky for someone who'd never been on a mission before in his life.

"I know how this works," Kepler said, tilting his head to the side. "I know how it's supposed to be between us."

 _Goddamn stupid, too_. Tycho sighed and crossed his arms. "And how's that?"

The move Kepler made then was one Tycho had seen coming from a parsec away. He jumped forward, no finesse whatsoever when he grabbed at Tycho's shoulders and pressed up against his front, Tycho's folded arms crushed between them.

Just a quick smash of lips and Kepler's stubble scraping hard against Tycho's chin before Tycho shoved him back. Kepler went easily, falling back a few steps; caught off-guard as though he hadn't even seen it coming.

Tycho sighed again, rubbed his mouth and chin, trying to rub away the sharp sting.  _Horrible._  "That's not how it is between us," Tycho said.

Kepler stepped back farther, leaning against the wall, only looking a little surprised. "Thought you said this wasn't your first assignment."

"It isn't," Tycho snapped, "but it is  _yours_ , so I'll tell you how it's going to be."

Kepler looked unhappy about that for a few seconds, and then he smirked. "Oh, by all means,  _tell me._ "

Tycho shot him an unimpressed look, then turned back to the dresser, closing the drawer the rest of the way before he said, "We're a team, not a pair. We work together, but we aren't  _together_. I've had other names before, been a part of other teams—you're a replacement, a stand-in, we all are."

Kepler blinked, mouth open but not moving, nothing to say.

"I'm here to do a job," Tycho said, thought back to those white clothes in the drawer just behind him, the Commander's face as he assigned them—just another team, just one more named team—to be Tycho and Kepler. "And if you're not interested in doing yours—"

"What, you'll quit me?" Kepler suddenly asked, straightening away from the wall. He didn't look angry, little smirk on his lips.

Tycho frowned, looked at Kepler's sharp gaze and had a sudden inclination that maybe Kepler wasn't as stupid as he'd seemed. Tycho didn't smile, watched Kepler closely as he said, "Or you'll die."

Kepler's expression didn't change. He shrugged. "I joined The Alliance," he said. "Dying isn't really something I'm worried about."

And just like that, Tycho changed his mind again. "Well  _I_ am," he said, "and I don't intend on dying anytime soon."

He turned away, picking the tablet up off the dresser and tapping it on, glancing at his schedule for the next day as he edged around the far side of the room, feeling Kepler's eyes on him the whole time.

"That's not what I meant," Kepler said eventually, once Tycho had settled onto the bottom bunk and all but forgotten about their conversation.

He glanced up, squinting in Kepler's direction. "Hmm?"

"I  _want_ to live," he said.

Tycho turned back to the tablet. "Well, that's good to hear."

A short pause, then, "Fuck, are you always this difficult?" Kepler burst out.

"I'm not difficult," Tycho muttered, clicking through the datapad. "You're just too easy."

The bed dipped when Kepler dropped down beside him, sitting too close; not threatening, just too personal. Too personal, too stupid, too cocky… _too easy_ ; would never make it back home alive when he didn't give a damn about playing by the rules. Tycho shot him a glare, but Kepler ignored it when he said, "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Tycho sighed, turned off the tablet and stood up, slipping it up onto the top bunk, then following just after, settling back onto the mattress.

From below, Kepler let out a long breath. "So, that's it then?"

Tycho didn't answer, staring at the ceiling. So many teammates, so many failed fighters…Kepler wasn't anything new, or different, no matter how hard he tried to be.

The bedsprings squeaked again, Kepler shifting against the mattress. His voice drifted up from below; a barely audible mutter. "Horrible."

Tycho snorted, almost smiled. He couldn't agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> Harrrrrr OK I guess my headcanon is that they sort of disliked each other at first--WHY NOT


End file.
